Shattered Silken Eyes
by Hanamuke
Summary: [TezukaFuji, with some AtobeFuji] 'Falling in love is exactly like dying.' A jilted Fuji unable to come to terms with his feelings shows up at Tezuka's wedding.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **

Prince of Tennis (c) Konomi...and it's going to stay that way.

**Notes:**

So after years upon years of reading fanfiction, I finally get the courage to post something of my own. Hopefully, it's not too bad for a first attempt. I hope you all enjoy. Thanks to **wingless crimson** for beta reading and inspration. I'd love to rant...though any minute now I'll get kicked off of the computer, -sigh-.

-Hanamuke-

**--**

**Shattered Silken Eyes**

**_Prologue_**

**----**

It's a terrible thing when falling in love reminded me of dying. No, let me rephrase that, falling in love is exactly like dying. Because half of the time I'm trying to fall out of love, hanging on to every last breath my lungs can take in. Most of the time, I don't take in anything. And every time I see him, I die again. I have lost count of how many times I've died, it must be somewhere in the millions now, maybe.

Of course I don't dare tell him. Yes, it is him, who everyone thinks it is. I think everyone suspects now, because no matter how hard I try, I know I still look at Tezuka Kunimitsu funny. I think that is how I will always look at him. But it's not something I can help. All I want to know now, is why I'm so discontent being what I am to him.

I'm someone he respects, I wonder if I earned the genius title just for him to notice me a little. I know that I will never surpass him, not in tennis, anyway. And I don't want to. His tennis is something that I love. If I made his tennis my own, I won't love it anymore.

And then I'll have to come face to face with the fact that I love Tezuka Kunimitsu the person. Though half of the time he seems more like an untouchable deity than a person, it is easier to love someone for their tennis. So using that excuse, I'll keep loving him. I love his tennis, and I won't admit to myself that I love him for him.

I wonder if I'm insane. It's graduation dance now and I have a date, because everyone is going to suspect even more if I don't. Her name is Misao and we're good friends, we're here as good friends. She doesn't mind that I've spent half of the evening drinking punch and staring out to the dance floor. I haven't danced, she has. I tell her that I'm not comfortable with dancing, and she doesn't force me. The other half of the evening I make frequent trips to the bathroom.

Tezuka is here too, although almost nobody would believe that our straight-laced tennis captain would grace our prom with his presence. This is the first dance that he has ever gone to, and to no one's surprise, he is not bad at dancing.

His date is stunning. And just because she's here as Tezuka Kunimitsu's date, everyone knows her name, I'm sure. I don't know her name, because I don't want to hate her. I'm sure I've heard her name somewhere, but as of now, I've effectively forgotten.

Sitting here, I have to repeatedly tell myself, I don't hate her. I don't hate her. If I tell myself enough times, maybe I won't.

"Syusuke-kun." A hand is on my shoulder, I stop glaring at my punch and look up to see Misao looking at me. She's worried about me, I can tell because Yuuta looks like that often. "I'm making you dance with me at least once. It can't be healthy for you just to be brooding there all night. And I'm here as your date, you know."

I attempt to smile. It works, I think. She looks a little relieved. "I can't dance." I say. "I'll fall and break my neck or something. And I haven't been brooding. That word makes me feel old, Misao."

She tugs at my hands, and after a moment, I get reluctantly to my feet. "You can't be all bad. Your captain can dance, quite well, too." She blushes just a little.

"Have you danced with Tezuka?" I ask, I have been watching Tezuka all evening, as far as I know; he has not danced with Misao.

Misao nods, "Just for half a song. It wasn't too slow, though."

I raise an eyebrow, "Half a song?"

She looks embarrassed now, I'm wondering if she spent the other half of the song doing something other than dance with Tezuka. But no…Tezuka would never…I don't know anymore. If I know Tezuka, he would not be here at this dance. And he is. "Actually…every girl here has been trying to dance at least half a song with Tezuka-san. You must think we're silly, Syusuke-kun. But he's really nice about it."

No, I think, I do not think you're silly. I would give anything to dance half a song with Tezuka, even a quarter of a song, I'd give the world. I don't say that though, I offer her another smile, and I hope she is not looking at my eyes. "Well…I'm not as good as Tezuka in tennis. I know dancing will be the same. After Tezuka, I'm not sure I can measure up, Misao."

"You're taking everything so seriously. It's not like I'm good at dancing either." Misao tries to reassure me, half dragging me onto the dance floor, "You just…well, move. And if people laugh at you, then people laugh at you. Come on."

I find myself holding her waist while she rests her head on my shoulder, and we rock. Very slowly. If this is dancing, then I know why Tezuka is good at it. This is the same thing as Tezuka Zone. How absurd. You don't even have to move, no wonder Tezuka is good at dancing. The thought depresses me, though.

"See? This is not so bad, right, Syusuke-kun?"

"It is, I feel like dying."

"That's _mean_."

I shrug one shoulder, she thinks I'm joking. Though I'm really not. I can see Tezuka dancing not too far away. Yet so far away. Even if I stand directly in front of him and sank to my knees and beg, I know the person in his arms will never be me. The fact that all the girls are trying to dance at least half a song with Tezuka…it seems unforgivable to me. I don't even want to begin to contemplate on why he lets them.

The song ends, and Misao lets me go. I go back to my chair and my glass of punch, while she disappears into the crowd as a loud beat blasts from the speakers. I crane my neck to find Tezuka. I cannot imagine him even remotely…

"Fuji."

I blink. Maybe I am drinking spiked punch after all, the music is hurting my ears. But I see Tezuka in front of me. As opposed to being in that crowd over there, letting the girls fight over him. I rub my eyes again.

"Tezuka." I say, once I realize that it is really him and not just a figment of my imagination. "Misao says you're letting everyone dance half a song with you this evening. Why so charitable?"

His mouth twitches, but it is too much for him to smile. Tezuka drags over another chair and sits by me. "…It's not like I had a choice." He says, and sure enough, he doesn't sound too pleased.

I can get my hopes up a little. "…Don't have a choice? What do you mean? All you have to do is glare at everyone and be done with it. Or you could order laps around in the gym…although I don't recommend that." It is easy to laugh with Tezuka. It always has, though it hurts to look at him. It's funny, because I'm always the one doing the laughing.

"It's not funny." He says and I stop. "Inui and Echizen apparently have this signup sheet…and they're probably quite wealthy by now. It's 500 yen for half a song and 1000 yen for a whole song. They're just afraid that they're going to run out of songs."

I have to laugh. Inui and Echizen with a signup sheet of dances with Tezuka. I could see it, after a few tries,"…You're expensive." I say, smiling vaguely, feeling better, now that I know the real story, "Why are you letting them do that? Is the money for a good cause, at least? Won't your date get mad?"

"Apparently, Echizen's convinced that it's a good idea to get a jumpstart on next year's fundraising." Tezuka deadpans, "I didn't come with a date. I rode here with Echizen."

Tezuka loves tennis more than his self image. I have to put that away for future reference. "Why aren't you dancing now?"

"I'm tired." He says. "I'm thinking of leaving, actually. If I can find a ride."

It's strange that the most mature out of us, Tezuka Kunimtisu, at eighteen, does not drive. He's gone to Germany and back all by himself and still his parents don't allow him to get behind the wheel. He's too much of a jewel to release into the roads, I guess. It's a good thing that Tokyo University is close to home.

"Do you think I can pay 500 yen and dance half a song with you?" I ask, knowing that he will think I'm kidding.

He gives a cough that could have passed for a chuckle if you listen hard enough. I feel myself dying again. "…You're amusing, Fuji."

Amusing. I am amusing to him. That almost makes me happy.

I drink some more punch; there is now a bitter tang that wasn't there before. "…Do you want me to drive you home? I'm sure Misao can grab a ride home with some of her other friends or something. Although Inui and Echizen might get mad at you." I try not to sound too eager.

"I should be mad at them." He corrects me, getting to his feet. "I'll be waiting for you in the parking lot, then. Thanks, Fuji."

I go off to find Misao and tell her that I'm leaving.

-------------

Tezuka does not trust my driving, he thinks that I should watch the road more, and talk less, lest I get into an accident. He tells me so when I pull out of the parking lot and almost run a red light.

"You should be careful when you're driving." He admonishes, looking decidedly ill at ease as I jerk to a stop, "Maybe I should just go back and wait for Echizen."

I look at him, faintly disgusted, "Tezuka, I haven't crashed yet. Do you seriously not trust me? You trust me in Singles 2, don't you?"

"You can't die in the vicinity of a tennis court, Fuji." Tezuka says, as if everyone knows this, and I'm a simpleton for not knowing. "And you've been playing tennis for years. How long have you been driving?"

"Four months." I say, "Officially. Okay, fine, I get your point. But you don't really want to go back and dance, do you?"

"No."

"I guess you're stuck with me, then." I say, feeling happy for the first time this evening.

Tezuka does not say anything.

The light turns green, and I start down the street again. I feel odd, half of me feels like flying up to the sky and dragging Tezuka up there somehow with me. It's a decidedly happy feeling, because having him so close, I can't be anything else but happy. But having him so close also means that he is as far away as ever…and that makes me want to die.

When it comes to Tezuka, I'm unusually suicidal, I realize.

"Fuji." He says, after a long silence has passed between us and I have turned onto his street. His house looms ahead, and half of me feels relieved. I can stop dying soon.

"Hmm?"

"Can I…ask you something?"

I park alongside the curb and turn to look at him, Tezuka sounds hesitant, something that…just sounds strange to me. But his face gives nothing away, I'm not sure whether or not I should be worried. I have been unusually myself this evening. There is no reason for Tezuka to suspect me. But the way his eyes watch me makes me want to shudder.

"Sure."

"Why did you reject Tokyo University? They gave you scholarship, didn't they?"

I don't look at him. Instead, I lace my hands carefully in my lap and I stare at them. Tezuka has brought up this subject only once before. For him to bring it up twice is almost unthinkable. I say, "Yeah, they did. I just…" I cannot tell him the real reason.

The real reason is that everything will remain the same; I will go to Tokyo University and see Tezuka Kunimitsu everyday, the person I love more than anything in this world. I'll play on the college tennis team and bask in the glory that he trusts me to bring victory to him and Tokyo University, just as I have done Seishun Gakuen. But I can barely look his way, let alone touch him in any way. I get tired of dying everyday, though I will never tire of loving someone I shouldn't.

"I am thinking about taking a break from tennis." I say, purposely not looking at him. "I like photography too, and Paris Arts Institute says they like my portfolio. And plus, I've always liked French, too. It's a romantic language, I think it suits me." I stop there, wondering if I have given myself away already.

"France is far away." He says, after thinking this over. I detect a little regret in his voice. Or maybe it's just my hopes running too high.

Not far enough. I doubt that anywhere is far enough, when you're running away from this sort of thing. But of course, I cannot tell him that.

I decide that it is indeed worth the risk, "Will you miss me, Tezuka?" I ask, holding my breath.

Tezuka turns to me and I suddenly want to kiss him. I've always wanted to kiss him, but now I'm struck with the finality of this want. I reach out and clasp him on the shoulder, for a minute.

"Yes. I will. Good night, Fuji." Tezuka mirrors my movement for half a second and for that one half a second, brushing his fingers by my shoulder, I'm the happiest person ever. But then he gets out of the car, and walks towards his house and I deflate.

I start up the car prepare to edge out into the street again, when I find that Tezuka is tapping on the window. I roll down the window on the passenger's side, knowing that I look way too happy.

"When do you go to France?" Tezuka asks.

"In a week."

"Can I accompany you to the airport?" He says.

"Sure. I'll…call you." I nod, I know my eyes are betraying me, they are too bright, and my heart is also beating too fast; maybe it's too dark for him to notice. Or at least…I hope it is dark enough. "Thanks, um, that means a lot." I have a knack for sounding corny, especially when it comes to Tezuka.

Luckily for me, he never notices, "All right, drive safely, Fuji."

-------------

My plane leaves in one hour, I'm now seated in one of many airport coffee shops, across from Tezuka, who insists on buying me four cups of hot chocolate, which I drink in succession because there is nothing else to do. He himself drinks tea. We don't drink coffee; it dumps too much caffeine into our system.

Maybe I can pretend we're dating. That he is a caring boyfriend that will kiss me good bye when it is really time to go.

I think about telling him.

_Tezuka, I know this will sound ridiculous, but see…I like you. A lot, I like you like…a girl would. Sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? Let's try again, shall we? I love you, now, that sounds corny. I think I'll give up. But…yeah, I think you know what I mean. _

In the end as the hour ends, I don't say anything. I remember how he used to stand there when a girl confesses to him like a statue. He sends them away with one simple no. While some of them somehow manage to walk away with some trace of dignity, most of them burst into tears and beg for mercy.

_Won't you just like me a little bit? For a minute? Only one minute? Please? _

I don't want that to happen to me. So…I'm not going to say anything. The last boarding call for my flight to Paris sounds, and I'm almost glad that it is just Tezuka and I. Mom, Dad, Yuuta, and Yumiko would have liked to come too, but I somehow convinced them not to. I'm glad I did.

"I guess this is good bye." I say.

"You sound solemn." He returns, shrugging my bag off his shoulder and handing it to me. "You'll come back for breaks, won't you?"

"Don't know, if I can afford it, maybe." I smile.

Then he takes me in his arms, and he holds me. I count to five, and the arms are gone. I know I look silly with my arms still up, so I drop them.

"Don't forget tennis." He looks at me. "It's going to be a waste of talent, if you do."

"I won't." I pick up my suitcase and head towards the line. "_Au revoir_."

"…What?"

I turn, he has a lost look on his face, it's a naïve expression, but it's strangely Tezukaesque, then again, a lot of things are strangely Tezukaesque to me. I smile, "Good bye, in French. Thanks for everything." I don't look back. The moment I do, I know I'll run into his arms and die.

But after a few minutes, I do look back, as the counter lady is scrutinizing my ticket trying to find something wrong with it. There are no arms for me to run to, Tezuka is already gone.

There is heavy sinking feeling. The lady hands me my ticket stub and tells me in a high-pitched voice to have a nice flight. I find myself thinking that I won't ever see Tezuka again as I follow the slow crawl onto the plane.

And yet, I'll never fall out of love with him.

Life just sort of sucks that way.


	2. Chapter I

**Disclaimer: **

Prince of Tennis (c) Konomi...and it's going to stay that way.

**Notes:**

Thanks so much for everyone's reviews. This chapter was surprisingly difficult for me, and I can safely so that I can't exactly say I'm that satisfied with it. But I hope everyone enjoys nonetheless. Again, lots of love to **wingless crimson**.

-Hanamuke-

**--**

**Shattered Silken Eyes**

**_Chapter I_**

**----**

I open my eyes. The bed sheets are silk—Italian silk, imported Italian silk from Venice. He never lets me forget. He never lets me forget the fact that bed sheets made out of Italian silk are a bitch to clean, either. At least, his maid always makes a big deal out of cleaning our sheets.

I am awake, but I can't find the energy to actually get up, so I lie there, toying with the satin knots of my robe idly. It's his way of telling he loves me, I guess, he buys me stuff, lots of stuff and spoils me rotten.

I feel bad that I'm not in love with Atobe Keigo.

But then he always tells me not to feel bad, he's not in love with me either. Though we do share a bed every night, and sometimes act like we love each other. But it fools everyone but ourselves, we know. And it's ridiculous, because we try so hard when we couldn't care less what other people think. It's us who can't forget.

I have not stopped loving Tezuka Kunimitsu. It's been almost seven years since he saw me off at the airport, and I haven't seen him since. I have been back to Japan, yes, but I always choose one of those absurd French holidays to hop back home, so that Tezuka would have school and I wouldn't have to see him. I try to make it a point to get around seeing everyone and tell them that under no circumstances are they to tell Tezuka that I'm back in Japan or that they have seen me.

Everyone thinks I'm mad at Tezuka for some reason. Some of the more daring ones always ask me if I hate him. No, I tell them, I don't hate him. But I…I always trail off and smile at them. And then they don't dare ask anymore. Though when they turn away from me to continue their own lives, I'm left to wonder if they ask because Tezuka hates me, it's a horrible thing to wonder.

I don't know who Atobe really loves, though I know he must love someone. I can see it. He goes around half of the time like a ghost, like me. Thinking about someone else when he kisses me and makes love to me, sometimes it bothers me, but most times I tell myself that I'm the same way.

We are one and the same; we're here in Paris, the romantic capital of the world, to try to hide from…whatever, whoever it is we're hiding from. Of course, Atobe will never admit that he is hiding, it is not 'Ore-sama's nature' to hide from anything. I have no qualms about admitting the fact that I'm hiding. I'm obvious enough as it is. The only thing left to do is for me to shout it from the rooftops.

I finally get up. A thin sliver of sunlight peeks through the curtains, but otherwise, the room is dark. I pull the robe closer to my body, and I leave the bed unmade. Atobe complains that I'm too neat, and he always pays the maid more than she is really worth because I don't give her enough to do.

Atobe is already sitting at the table, idly sipping at a cup of warm coffee and he smirks at me in greeting. "_Bonjour_, sleep well?"

"It was a little cold." I say, "But otherwise, I slept well. How about you? When did you get in last night, anyway?" I reach across the table for his coffee cup. The warm sweetness runs down my throat and I feel more awake.

"Eleven-thirty, give or take." He shrugs.

An interesting fact about Atobe Keigo. He is a closet workaholic. Though he does have a penchant for sleeping late. He makes up for it by going to bed and staying at the office late and coming home late. I set the cup down, "I can see circles under your eyes, Ore-sama."

Atobe glares at me, "I know."

"I worry about you." I counter quietly. Since I cannot worry about Tezuka, worrying about Atobe is the next best thing. "Don't snap at me, please."

He sighs, "You sound like a mother hen, Fuji. I'm fine."

"Sorry."

He gets up, and returns a moment later with my steaming cup of coffee, which he sets in front of me. I smile, and he bends down to kiss me, on both cheeks, and then on the mouth for a very long time. The thickness of espresso is stuck to the roof of my mouth, but it's all right. The bitter tang goes away after a while.

After pulling away, he looks me in the eye, "Forget about him yet?" It's a joke between us. I look away, down at Atobe's hands, which I'm holding. I lift them up and examine them. And then I kiss each of his fingers.

My answer never changes, though, "No."

-------------

Usually, Atobe is off to work after that, and I'm left alone doing whatever I feel like doing. Photographers don't have a set schedule, though I do have to tutor a French student in Japanese over lunch. But today, he stays home, so we snuggle on the couch some.

"Will you tell me who it is?" I ask, toying with a ring on his pointer finger. It's either topaz or opal. Trust me to know the difference. It's a beautiful ring, though, for some reason, it doesn't really suit Atobe, and it's loose on his finger. I wonder why he allows himself to be imperfect. "I told you. It's fair."

"You didn't need to tell me. Everyone knows." Atobe returns, looking faintly amused, "For someone like you, you were so obvious about it. Always staring at him like some lovesick schoolgirl."

Of course, it doesn't suit Atobe at all that I can't forget about Tezuka, but I don't let it bother me. "…I was not." I say, very much miffed. "Atobe, I think you're secretly in love with me."

"Yes, you are." His hands are absently exploring my body, and soon I find myself settled in his lap, as opposed to just sitting next to him and leaning my head on his shoulder. Atobe kisses me. "What if I am?" He says, trailing his thumb gently over my bottom lip.

I say, "I feel sorry for you." I play with the buttons on his shirt while he slides the robe from my shoulders. "And I feel very sorry for myself." I undo one button, and then another, and then another. Atobe's body is warm.

"Why feel sorry for yourself?" He asks, cocking a mildly curious eyebrow.

"If I were in love with you, I'd be happy instead of miserable. I wake up miserable every day next to you, because I wonder if Tezuka is waking up next to someone else." I say the truth, because Atobe doesn't mind.

"I'm offended." Atobe says, though I know he doesn't really mean it.

"I'm sorry." I say again. And I kiss him to show how sorry I am. After pulling away, I sneeze.

Atobe pulls me closer after that. He tilts my chin up so that he can lick my throat. It feels nice, but I can't help but wonder what Tezuka's tongue would feel like, lapping me up like I'm the most beautiful thing in the world.

"Atobe," I tangle my fingers up in his hair, gently though, because 'Ore-sama' is delicate and needs to be handled with care. "You're not really in love with me, are you?"

"No." He says, pausing to pick up my robe, which is lying on the ground, he drapes it casually over me again, and continues to kiss me. "I'm not in love with you. But I'm not going to tell you who it is. Now, be quiet, you talk too much."

-------------

"_Arigatou, Fuji-sensei_." Charlotte Mercier looks me over as she gathers up her things. She's pretty, French, and blonde. I'm almost positive that she has a crush on me. "That's how you say it, right?"

Her supposed liking me does not stop me from hating her for butchering the Japanese language, her accent is atrocious, and getting more so with every lesson. But I try hard not to grudge her too much for it, I think I was the same too, learning French. I nod, "Something like that."

"Syusuke, am I improving at all?" Now that the session is over, she goes back to calling me Syusuke, with a noticeably French accent. "I mean, you have this really pinched look on your face like I'm not."

"I do?" I probably do, since I'm more transparent now than before, because now, I have almost nothing to hide. "Well, you're improving, Charlotte." If I can't keep all my emotions off my face, I can still lie.

She looks convinced, "Will you walk me home?" She asks me that sometimes, it's not a completely outrageous request because she lives only a block away from Café Madeleine and it's a short drive for me. I pause to decide if I am feeling charitable enough. In the end, I decide that I am, "All right."

She brightens and loops her arm through mine and we walk outside. It's a rather cold day, and cold prickles my skin. Charlotte takes this opportunity to walk closer. I don't stop her.

"So how are things with Atobe?" She starts, after a minute or two of silence. Apparently, it doesn't bother her that I have a supposed lover who is also male. Nothing seems to faze the French, one of the many things I admire about them. She calls him Atobe, I realize, because I have always called him Atobe. Never Keigo. I don't know why I'm thinking about this, right now.

"Well, things are good." I say, purposely vague.

"He must take very good care of you. You always have such nice clothes, Syusuke." Charlotte sounds envious. Her clothes aren't half bad, at least, from what I've seen. I wonder why clothes are such a big deal. But then again, I do not think like a girl.

"I…guess." I say, shrugging. I don't tell her that I have tried to kill Atobe everyday for maybe three months back in the days when Tezuka was in Germany. I don't think we have ever actually forgiven and forgotten, but we make do.

"You're lucky to have him." She sighs, leaning her head on my shoulder as we continue on. "Good men are so hard to find right now."

Good man. I almost laugh, I don't treasure the one that I have, the one I have, I might as well hate, and I treasure someone who I will never have. I'm spoiled, in more ways than one. Charlotte makes me feel miserable and selfish. I have to change the subject before I start to entertain thoughts of suicide.

"…Did something happen with Andre?" I say, looking over at her. Now it makes sense, Charlotte wants to walk home with me, because Andre left her. I have met Andre only once, and for the entire duration of our meeting, I keep wanting to punch him in the face. When I tell Charlotte as much, she wanted to punch me in the face.

"Yeah…" She says, hanging her head, "I should have listened to you. Maybe I should go to Japan one day, find a good person to take care of me like you and Atobe."

And Tezuka, I add, in the privacy of my own head. I open my mouth to tell her that she wouldn't last even an hour in Japan the way her accent is right now, but my phone buzzes, and I answer.

It's Atobe, his voice is strained, like nothing I've ever heard, "…Fuji, I think you need to come home."

"Why?"

"Just come home." And then, he hangs up.

-------------

I stand in front of Atobe, ready to strangle him. He dangles a white envelope between his fingers and I just fume. "Don't call me like that, I thought someone died. Thanks to you, I almost got arrested on the way home." I am thinking of Yuuta, whose recklessness on the road is almost parallel to mine.

"For speeding?" He says knowingly with a smirk. But then, a few seconds, and he is sober again, "No one died, no. But this is just bad. Read," He thrust the envelope into my hands, "I'll let you snap at me later."

I sigh and look at the envelope. I recognize the address and I almost don't want to read it. I recognize the name and the handwriting too. Atobe stands watching me.

It's a wedding invitation.

_You are cordially invited to attend_

_The Wedding Ceremony of_

_Tezuka Kunimitsu and Harada Misao_

_December 13, 2007_

_4:00 - 6:00_

I don't read anymore. I can't read anymore. There isn't anything else to read except for the RSVP number at the lower right corner, which I don't recognize. There is a picture of the two of them too, they look so becoming. Tezuka in a white tuxedo and Misao in a white gown. They are holding each other. Misao is beaming in his arms and Tezuka manages somehow to look gentle.

I suddenly want to throw up. But somehow, I manage to place the invite back into the envelope, set it on Atobe's desk, before putting my arms around Atobe and crushing him.

He holds me too, but not nearly as tightly. I know my eyes are misting over. "Fuck." I say.

Atobe just rocks me like a child, I do not remember him ever being so gentle. "I'm sorry."

"I'm all right." I say, my voice is broken and brittle, and I'm not all right, it's worst lie I've ever told. "It's been seven years, I haven't seen him, I can forget about him. He probably hates me for avoiding him too. It's all right…I don't have to go…fuck."

He kisses me, a long, slow kiss, and after he pulls away, my breathing is back to normal. I burrow deeper in his arms and I wonder vaguely how Atobe is feeling. I wonder if I'm tearing him apart by holding him like this, blaming him that he is not Tezuka.

"Fuji, look at me."

I look, and he looks back at me. "You still love him." He says, using his fingers to hold my chin in place. It hurts, but I don't say anything. "You can lie to the world, Fuji Syusuke, but don't lie to yourself. You love Tezuka. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here with me now."

This piece of advice is coming from Atobe Keigo himself. I want to remind him that he's the one that's faking. He fakes so well, that even he himself is beginning to forget. Maybe the loose ring on his finger helps him remember. I glare at him, "I don't love him." I say, lying through my teeth.

"Liar." Atobe spits, and then he lets go of me.

I stare at him, so are you; I want to say, while trying to shake sense back into him. But I don't move. If I lie, then you lie, you're not in love with me, yet you call me your lover, and I don't correct you. That makes us one and the same.

I open my mouth, "Fuck me. Fuck me like you used to. Be as rough as you'd like, Ore-sama. Would I tell you to do that if I love him?" This is what insanity feels like. I'm almost sure of it.

Atobe nods, "Yes." Though he is already pulling me by the hips towards him and stripping off my clothes, not even bothering to kiss me. This is also proof, that he is not in love with me.

-------------

Later.

I am sprawled out on the floor of Atobe's study, I'm not wearing any clothes, and Atobe is lying next to me. He has fucked me, and it's rougher than I remember. This proves that the beast inside him has not died, and he is not at all in love with me. But it also proves something I don't want proven.

I still love Tezuka.

Because even as I drink in Atobe's body and he consumes me whole, I think about Tezuka. Atobe has left marks all over my body and it hurts to move, but I think about Tezuka, and how unfaithful my body is to him. Every thought, even as I scream Atobe's name, is of Tezuka, and not once, do I think of Atobe.

"I love Tezuka." I say, wincing.

Atobe does not say anything. He is still breathing hard and sweat clings to his naked figure, his eyes are closed. I get up after a couple of tries. It hurts to walk, but I walk to the bathroom and return with towels. I clean up Atobe's body first, and then the mess on the floor. I realize that Atobe's body is perfect, and I hate it. I hate it. I think knows too, by the way I'm not exactly as gentle as I should be, that I hate his body.

I love Tezuka. I'm dying again. I take the towels that smell of Atobe and I go back to the bathroom. And then I take a shower, a long, cold shower, it's the least I can do, to keep the mind and body that loves Tezuka so much from smelling like Atobe.


	3. Chapter II

**Disclaimer: **

Prince of Tennis (c) Konomi...and it's going to stay that way.

**Notes:**

I moved the story rating up, just to be safe, since this is turning out to be a lot darker than I thought it would be. I had fun with this chapter though and can say that I'm honestly satisfied with it. Thanks for all your reviews and I hope you enjoy. Due to vacation, this chapter is un-betaed.

-Hanamuke-

**--**

**Shattered Silken Eyes**

_**Chapter II**_

**----**

I find myself on a plane back to Japan, first class, with Atobe Keigo and Charlotte Mercier for company. The flight is long, yet not long enough, as I know that Tezuka is waiting for me somewhere back there. I sleep, when I can tune out Charlotte's running commentary about how nice traveling first class is.

Atobe and I don't tell her that we don't travel any other way. So this is all we know. She cannot get over the fact that almost everything is free on first class, even champagne and the little perfume samples that the stewardesses shower upon Charlotte.

Tezuka and Misao's wedding invitation is in my back pocket. I get it out once in a while and stare at it when I don't think Atobe is looking. He travels a lot more than I do, so sleep comes easier to him than it does me. But sometimes, when I want to sleep and he is awake, he gives me a massage so I can.

And I pay him back by waking him up with a kiss when they serve meals. Though I kiss discreetly and don't make a big deal out of it. If I don't kiss him discreetly, I'm sure the old couple that has been staring at us all flight long will contract heart attacks and die. Although that does make for an interesting epitaph or two.

Charlotte has commented so many times on how much we love each other. It's the most beautiful thing in the world. She wants something just like it. I don't tell her that Atobe is just as capable of acting like a savage beast as he does a romantic lover, and, returning the favor Atobe doesn't tell her that I'm the most unfaithful person on the face of this Earth that one can find.

All Charlotte knows about Tezuka is that he used to be my best friend in Junior High and High School. Of course, it is just like Charlotte Mercier to make theatrics over that. It's a wonderful thing you still remember him as your best friend, Syusuke! I wish I can do that!

No, you don't. But I don't say anymore than that, and for once, she does not ask.

More than once, I wonder if I have made a mistake in bringing Charlotte along. Atobe certainly thinks so, he shoots me frequent glances seeking my permission to smother her with a pillow or something so she would stop talking. I want to let him; after all, Atobe did pay for her plane ticket.

In the end, I promise him that he can throttle her after I fall asleep, so I'm not guilty by association, I'm almost certain that if I see Atobe strangling Charlotte at this point, I will join in with little hesitation. I end up earning another soothing massage and I fall asleep.

-------------

The Atobe estate is as grand as ever. Though now, I have gone around with Atobe Keigo long enough to see the estate as a formidable, but still undeniably common, piece of land, and the castle that rules over acre after acre is just a house. How terrible I am.

They still have the same butler, albeit he's a little more bent than when I last saw him. He addresses Atobe as Young Master Keigo, which annoys him to no end. They have been calling him that for the last twenty-five years, and they refuse to let him grow up. I'm just Mister Fuji, which is mildly unsettling because no one has ever treated me with so much respect before.

We are led into Atobe's old bedroom. After the maids leave, Atobe sits down on the bed. And I sit down beside him, he puts an arm around me and for once, I don't lean my head on his shoulder.

"Where's Charlotte?" I say.

"I had them give her a bedroom on the other side of the house." Atobe makes a face, "I can't stand that woman. How the hell do you do it, I'd like to know?"

"She's amusing to listen to." I answer, "Just not on a plane, and not when you're trying to sleep. We all have flaws, Atobe, hers just happens to be a little more obvious than the average person. Be forgiving."

"Well, at least she's blonde and sexy." Atobe says, shrugging a shoulder. "You can't have everything."

I can't help but smile, though it's a vague smile, Atobe thinks Charlotte is sexy, that makes me want to laugh, but I can't. I actually try to forget about it, lest I betray Atobe. "And this is coming from the great Ore-sama himself, I better believe it."

I believe, even without Atobe telling me. Just look at me. I have Atobe, and in having Atobe, I have everything that belongs to Atobe, which is quite a lot. And yet…for all his riches and property, Atobe Keigo does not own Tezuka. What I truly want.

He half snorts and manages somehow to make it sound elegant. And I earn a kiss, for whatever reason. "You're amusing, Fuji."

I earn a kiss for being amusing. I smile against his lips and I find myself staring at the wall of tennis trophies that all bear the name Atobe Keigo on them, in some form or the other. And then I remind myself that I have not held a racket ever since graduating from high school. I pull away.

"Ne, Atobe."

"What?"

Tezuka told me not to forget tennis; I want to tell him, that it will be a waste of talent if I do. Can we play a game, so that I can lie to myself again and tell myself and the memory of Tezuka that I have not forgotten tennis?

"I want to play tennis." I say.

Atobe looks at me strangely, and he slips his arm from my shoulders. He sighs, as if he has expected this, and it is only inevitable that such a request would come. He closes his eyes and lies back on the bed for a very long time, probably wondering how to refuse me.

"It's cold outside." He says finally. "It's supposed to snow."

"If it starts to snow, we'll stop." I lie beside him, "Please? One game."

"I've stopped playing tennis." He looks over at me. "As have you."

"For fun." I can feel myself beginning to crumble, any minute now, I will start to beg incoherently and blurt out the real reason. "Please?" I kiss him, and I taste him, for once, Atobe tastes bitter.

"If it snows, we have to stop." He sighs, heaving himself up again. "Okay?"

I hug him, he does not hug back, but that is fine. I get up and I rummage through my suitcases to find a thick sweater. It's an Armani sweater, and I see Atobe looking at it.

"You're playing tennis in an Armani sweater." He states, looking me over. "You are insane."

I roll my eyes, but I go look for another sweater that's not Armani. I don't want to agree with him, but by silence…he knows that I know. I pull another not Armani sweater over my head and he steps out in the hallway to yell for some maids to dig up tennis rackets.

-------------

My Tsubame Gaeshi leaves much to be desired, and Higuma Otoshi almost breaks a window. After the utter failure of these two counters, I don't have the heart to try Hakugei and see how dilapidated has become. I lose the first game. And Atobe laughs at me because I don't usually lose service games.

As it turns out, Ore-sama's ever infamous Rondo to Destruction misses by a mile, and the Tanhauser serve nearly shatters his wrist, it must really hurt, the way he is gripping it and wincing. It's by all means my turn to laugh, but I can't. I cross the net and shake my head.

"I think we can stop playing." I say.

I think Atobe wants to curse at me, but for some reason, he doesn't. He just glances down at wrist, which has begun to swell. And then he laughs. It's a bitter broken laugh and it doesn't suit Atobe.

I find myself laughing along with him. The same laugh. And then I kiss his wrist. He manages to wince and smirk and smile all at the same time. Even for Atobe, it's quite an accomplishment.

We go inside. The maids fuss over 'Darling Master Keigo' and my laugh becomes more amused than pained. He doesn't enjoy the fuss, so I end up rescuing him.

In his room, Atobe instructs that I lock the door, which I do. He sprawls out on his bed and I look over at him. When Atobe instructs that I lock the door, it either means he wants to make love or yell at me. I think it's the latter.

"Are you happy?" He says, not looking at me, he is still too busy examining his wrist, which sports a mild bluish tinge. "The fucking prodigy of Seigaku can't even win a single service game. You're pathetic, Fuji."

I unwrap a roll of linen bandage and tear off a part of it, and then I toss a conveniently placed icepack onto the bed. There is no thud, Atobe must have caught it. "I'm not a prodigy of Seigaku anymore." I answer, fighting the urge to tell him that he is the pathetic one, he can't even serve properly. But then, Atobe has a right to be angry, whereas I have none.

I sit on the edge of the bed, as far away from Atobe as possible.

"Then stop acting like you are." He doesn't sound angry, merely tired. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him adjusting the icepack. He is tired of reasoning with me, a spoiled child, a stubborn child. "Tezuka is getting married, whether or not your tennis skills improve. Get over it."

I almost want to hit him. I don't tell him that he's actually marrying my high school prom date, which is all the more traumatizing. Though I just shake my head again, after a minute. "I can't. You don't understand."

Atobe is silent.

Then, "Yes, I do."

I look at him.

He has an idle smirk on his face, yet for the first time, the spark of pride is gone, and I can't read Atobe's expression. "The world is about you, Fuji, it revolves around you, and every time it doesn't go your way, you throw a tantrum. It's what you're doing now."

For once, I feel like an idiot. Because everything he has been saying is true, and I am at a loss for words.

But Atobe continues, "I am just like you. The world is about me, but I just sulk when things don't go my way. I don't go out of my way to make everyone feel miserable—"

"—Like I'm doing now." I finish flatly.

"Yes, like what you're doing now." He echoes, yet the hand that reaches out to touch me is strangely gentle. "Lie with me." He draws me in, and I sigh. Again, for the umpteenth time, I wonder why I am in love with Tezuka and not Atobe. I curl up next to him and close my eyes.

"Am I making you miserable, Atobe?"

He shrugs one shoulder, "No, but you're annoying, you won't shut up. You're just like a spoiled child. That is why I'm not in love with you. I'm tired of taking care of you all the time. Every time you do something stupid, I always have to lecture you."

So he is not in love with me. I lean in and kiss him on the side of his mouth. "You spoil me. It's all your fault." I sigh again, tugging at a loose strand on his sweater. "Do you hate me?"

"No."

It's a simple enough answer to a simple enough question. Yet when I echo the question in my own head, I find that the answer for me is anything but simple. "I feel guilty." I say, "I hate you sometimes, but sometimes I wish I were in love with you. For someone that's tired of taking care of me…" I trail off.

"Don't feel guilty." He tells me before kissing me firmly on the mouth. "I'm very tired of you. Never once do I think of falling in love with you. I do not love you. I can't say that enough times. You're nothing but a spoiled, lovesick child. That is all you are."

That makes me feel better. But only a little. I open my eyes to reply, but a maid raps on the door and informs us dinner is ready, and I realize I don't have anything to say. I insist on wrapping up his wrist before going.

-------------

Dinner is a five-course meal, filled with astronomically priced foreign imported foods; Atobe seems to think that such a setup is normal. Charlotte eats with us and Atobe's mother too. It's the last one that makes me nervous. It makes Atobe nervous too, I know. Ore-sama is extraordinarily considerate of his mother, and even so, he rarely pleases her.

It doesn't suit her at all that her son is twisted around my finger. A good-for-nothing photographer; that is all I am. Her precious Keigo can have anyone who is anyone. It actually is kind of amusing how almost everyone in the Atobe household with the exception of his father who is away on a business trip thinks I'm a good-for-nothing on some level.

Atobe tries to placate his mother throughout the course of the dinner, and touching between us is minimal. An occasional brush of the shoulders when the Empress of Ice stops grilling us and starts interrogating Charlotte instead, this alarms Atobe and I, since I have told him how incapable she is carrying on an intelligent conversation in French, let alone Japanese.

We are quickly relieved. The fact that Charlotte is a natural blonde seems to impress his mother greatly. They talk about fashion, and they talk in French. I can tell Charlotte is trying hard not to laugh at Atobe's mother. Now she knows I feel, sort of.

And all dinner long, I try not to remember that Atobe thinks that Charlotte is sexy.

When dinner is over and we are Atobe's room again, he tells me that I should consider dying my hair blonde. I tell him to dream.

-------------

Atobe is stroking my body; it doesn't suit either of us that we went to sleep clothed and somehow managed to stay that way. Actually, it suits my mind just fine. But my body seems to be in love with Atobe. So it's early in the morning and this is a nice way to pass time.

I peel off his clothes too, carefully, and I run my hands down and back up, his groans tell me when to slow and when to speed. He groans my name, but always Fuji, never Syusuke.

When we tire, I sprawl out on top of him, and he kisses the crook of my neck. I kiss back, and soon, we are lost again. I think I called out the wrong name once. I call out Kunimitsu, but Atobe is too far gone to notice, which is just as well.

That's how the butler finds us, naked, swathed in a mess of soiled silken sheets. Atobe tries to glare at me for not locking the door properly, though not for long, the expression on the old man's face is absolutely priceless. We watch him for several minutes, trying to determine whether or not he is going to have a heart attack.

He ends up recovering, albeit his face is still unusually flushed. And then he informs me that Mister Fuji has a visitor waiting for him in the main parlor. It's a Miss Harada Misao, who is sorry if she has come…he coughs – at a bad time.

I shrug Atobe's arms off and I shake my head, no, it's not a bad time. The butler coughs again and tries valiantly not to stare. He almost succeeds.

He leaves, and I get dressed. All this time, Atobe says nothing.


	4. Chapter III

**Disclaimer: **

Prince of Tennis (c) Konomi...and it's going to stay that way.

**Notes:**

Gah! I'm on vacation, so it's really hard to get internet connection, I actually had this done about three days ago. I'm wondering if I packed too much stuff into this chapter but I had fun writing it. This chapter is still unbetaed.

-Hanamuke-

**--**

**Shattered Silken Eyes**

**_Chapter III_**

**----**

I dress slowly, examining my clothes for wrinkles, I take the time to smooth them out, one by on. There is an unfamiliar lump at the base of my throat that I can't get rid of. It tastes and sticks exactly like guilt.

I finish dressing, the Armani sweater that I almost wore out to play tennis yesterday, and a pair of artfully faded new jeans. I feel Atobe's eyes on me, and I know by the familiar heat that grazes by my body that he is mentally stripping me naked, something that he does quite often. Something, I realize as my face flushes, that I have sadly grown to like. Something that I like about just Atobe, and not something that I like about Tezuka that Atobe does.

Atobe says, "Are you all right?"

"No, I'm not." I shake my head, "I'm afraid I'll start hating her when I see her. I don't want to hate Misao." I crawl back on the bed, though I'm careful to brush aside sheets that are stained so my clothes stay clean. Atobe kisses me, it's a kiss that draws a soft moan from my lips and I remember just how unfaithful I am.

"You're kind, Fuji. Don't be kind. Hate her, because she's stealing your Tezuka away." He says this, taking me in his arms; my head finds the comfortable crook of his neck. "Hate her…like you hated me, back then. Be selfish, for once in your goddamn life; don't let her take Tezuka away from you."

"I thought you weren't happy about my loving Tezuka." I reach for a corner of a clean sheet and wiping it down Atobe's body. "Are you changing your mind?"

"There is nothing wrong with your loving Tezuka." Atobe answers, "That's just it, you're acting like it's some crime, you're afraid to meet his fiancée, you're afraid to do anything that has anything to do with Tezuka. It's not wrong. You can't help how you feel, Fuji. Cater to your very human feelings once in a while. You might not be so miserable. That's what I'm not happy about, when you love someone, you're supposed to be happy."

I stay silent, and then I sigh. He kisses me again, and draws another moan, this one sounds louder and I can't help but think the maids are standing outside the door listening in. I pull away and get out of the bed. "I can't. I can't hate Misao."

Atobe shrugs.

-------------

Harada Misao is waiting for me in the parlor, she is dresses in a sweater and jeans, it's not anything fancy. But Tezuka doesn't like fancy, he never has. It's just as well. She stands up to hug me when I enter the room, and I have never felt so awkward. I manage to hug her back, somehow.

"Syusuke-kun, how are you?" She doesn't seem to notice though. "It's so good to see you, you haven't changed at all." She lets go of my hands and sits back down. I sit down too, in a chair that's far enough away for me not to strangle her or do anything strange.

A maid takes scuttles in with tea, which Misao declines and decide that coffee would suit more, so early in the morning. The maid smiles, and dips her head in apology, it is so good of Mister Fuji to be so thoughtful! And exits the room backwards.

Misao watches all this with much amusement, "Mister Fuji." She chuckles, "Should I call you that too?"

I smile and shake my head, even though I have never found smiling so painful, "Syusuke-kun is fine. How…err, how did you know I was back?" Now that I actually calm down to think about it, it's a big deal that I've return to attend the wedding of Tezuka Kunimitsu and Harada Misao. But both Atobe and I have agreed on not advertising our presence. So no one should know that we are back.

She gave a me a tolerant knowing smile, a smile that I recognize as my own. I realize that Misao has taken a lot of things from me, my sanity, my Tezuka, my smile. "Inui-san told me you might come sneaking back."

Inui. I should have known. I smile, "There's no getting away from that guy, is there? Still keeping tabs on us." I shake my head, I actually find that sort of funny. "How is Tezuka?" I want to know, yet I don't want to.

At the mention of her fiancée, she blushes and shies away like the proper bride to be, I bite my tongue to make sure that my face doesn't betray me as I wait for her response.

"Tezuka-san has been very good to me." And nothing else after that, it makes me wonder. "We're saving up to buy a house, we should be moving out of the apartment within a year or two. He's a tax attorney, but you don't really make much in the beginning."

"…You two are living together?" It's all I can do to keep my jaw from dropping.

She flushes some more, and then shakes her head, "No, of course not, Tezuka-san's parents don't approve. You've met them, Syusuke-kun, you know what they're like. I'm talking about after we get married. We've been looking at a lot of apartments lately."

"Oh." I suddenly want to die again. But somehow, I smile, "I'm happy for you, Misao." My mind is happy for her, but every other part of me hates her. "Tezuka's always been a hard worker; make sure he doesn't work too hard for me, won't you?"

Misao laughs, "I lecture him sometimes, about working too much, but he doesn't really listen to me. Maybe you should lecture him instead…" She abruptly cut off, "Actually, that's what I came to talk to you about, today." Heaving a sigh, she laced her hands prettily together and set them in her lap.

"Is something wrong?" I say.

"Are you mad at Tezuka-san?" Misao asks, looking down at her hands rather than at me. "I know you've been to Japan before, and you meet up with your old friends and such. I saw you, in June. We talked, remember?"

"I remember."

"You haven't seen Tezuka-san in seven years, Syusuke-kun, you always tell everyone not to tell Tezuka that you've been back." She lifts her eyes up, her tone suddenly bitterly accusing, "Did the two of you have a fight?"

"A…fight? No, no, I—we didn't." I can't breathe so well, the maid returns with my requested coffee and I lift it to my lips. "Tezuka and I didn't have a fight." It's too hot, but somehow I manage to swallow.

"Then what happened?" She wants to know, "Because Tezuka-san still talks about you everyday, he wants to know what he did wrong. How he can fix it. And it just stinks because I can't tell him."

_I fell in love with him, that's all. And…it grew to be too painful to see him everyday. I release him to go on with his life, and he has. But I'm the one that's still in chains. I hate this. That's all. _

"He's always busy when I come back." I say, "It's not my fault. And it's not his fault, either, he did nothing wrong. What happened, if it was anyone's fault at all, blame it on me."

"You're not answering my questions." She says. "I know something happened, Syusuke-kun."

"I can't tell you." I sigh, finally. "You wouldn't understand any of it. Yes, something did happen, but it's entirely my fault, Tezuka had no part in it. It was just…me being an idiot." I stand, "If you'll excuse me, I have Atobe waiting upstairs for me."

She slaps me, hard. My cheek is stinging, but I know my expression hasn't changed. It hasn't changed because Misao doesn't sound any less pissed. "You're not the Syusuke-kun I know." Misao says, glaring at me, "The Syusuke-kun I know was kind and caring. This Syusuke-kun is selfish, he's so selfish that he wouldn't even tell his best friend why he disappeared for seven years."

"I told you it's not his fault."

"You don't care that your best friend is depressed more often than not these days because he did something wrong to piss you off. At least have the heart to tell him what he did, so that he can fix it if he wants to." Misao is genuinely angry. I smile though, she must truly love Tezuka to come yell at me like this.

But I love Tezuka too, more than she does, more than she can, more than she ever will. "Misao, it's not—"

But she is gone before I can continue, and I sigh. The butler comes in to check on me, but he doesn't say anything. Then I realize that she has called me Tezuka's best friend, and that Tezuka is supposedly depressed over me. And then I laugh after that. Some friend I am. Misao is right, I am selfish. So selfish that I am beginning to hate her.

-------------

Two days after that, an invitation to Tezuka Kunimitsu's stag party as arranged by Oshitari Yuushi and Inui Sadaharu arrive for Master Keigo and Mister Fuji. After one look at the invite, Atobe and I decide that we have reason to worry. And after we decide to worry, Atobe notes that the stationary is unusually expensive.

And then there's the matter of us actually going, or not. We discuss the matter very briefly over breakfast. I have just coffee, since I'm not hungry, Atobe has coffee and toast, even though his appetite isn't particular good this morning either. But Ore-sama must eat to please his mother.

"Oshitari's a doctor." Atobe says.

"Inui's a biochemist." I say.

"Let's not go." He finishes dully. It should have been the most amusing thing in the world, though neither of us laugh.

But then we decide on going anyway, because if we do not, that would mean putting up with Charlotte the whole day. The maids have made quick friends with her, since she is so close to the orgasmic Master Keigo, and the mysterious Mister Fuji.

It kind of disturbs Atobe that his maids think that he is orgasmic. I tell him he asked for it.

Atobe orders the invitation to be taken away after these decisions are made, he picks at his toast, and I barely taste my coffee. I have not told anything that Misao has said to me, other than the fact that they're trying to save up and buy a house. Atobe knows that there is more, but he's nice enough not to ask.

We both have a good laugh that Tezuka has ended up a tax attorney. It's funny because we have both more or less expected it. It was either that, or a real estate agent.

-------------

Atobe is impressed, Tezuka Kunimitsu's stag party is held in a hotel banquet hall. They provide champagne served in sparkling crystal glasses. We sip and we talk to people that we haven't seen in seven years. It makes me feel rather ancient, because no one is who I think they are.

Everyone is utterly shocked that Fuji Syusuke, who wished upon the swift and utter destruction of Atobe Keigo back in the old days, would consent to being in love with him. But then, time does funny things to people. Atobe smirks, and I smile, and neither of us say anything.

They all have interesting jobs; also, Eiji has ended up as a professional circus performer, Kaidoh is a swimming coach over at the local YMCA. Taka-san is a sushi chef with his own restaurant now. Only Echizen Ryoma retains tennis as a profession. But that's to be expected, really.

In the case of Hyotei, Atobe cannot believe that Kabaji is now a telecommunications direction for some kind of company. He has his own life now, one that doesn't revolve around the great Ore-sama in the least; Atobe's a little bit down. I make a mental note to comfort him later.

But otherwise the jobs are laughable, Shishido is a magazine writer, and Jiroh's a balloon artist. Ohtori is still in school because the poor kid has read too many books and thinks that a PhD is actually worth getting. Atobe hasn't had the heart to correct him. I realize that I don't care, and I'm usually nice about this type of thing. I've drank too much to care.

-------------

"You came, Fuji."

I'm cringe at the sound of the voice, it's late in the evening and I'm on my seventh or eighth glass of champagne and my head feels like it's about to explode from too much alcohol. Currently, I'm not allowed to get up or move, lying down on one of the divans that they provide in an adjacent room. Atobe said he was going to get wet towels, but I think he forgot about me.

"Hello, Tezuka. Yes, I did come." Tezuka is holding a towel, and I take it from him to press against my forehead, "Did you buy the champagne for your party? It's really good, I would get up to get another glass, but Atobe would kill me."

"I'll kill you too." Tezuka says, his face totally devoid of any emotion, though to me, his voice is never totally without emotion, but I can't bring myself to read his voice, at the moment.. "How are you feeling?"

"I believe it. How I'm feeling? Well, I'm miserable." I say, before I can take my words back. "I mean…"

"You're drunk." He says, disapprovingly.

"I'm not."

"You are."

I sigh. "Fine, I probably am. But it's my fault." I move the towel from my forehead to my eyes and sit up halfway. "Everything is my fault. All my fucking fault." My eyes are watering a little. "I'm sorry for getting drunk at your bachelor party."

Tezuka is silent, but then I feel a strange weight on the divan. He sits down besides me and I curl my feet up to give him room. "I haven't seen you in seven years. But if you're drunk, I don't think it's a good time for us to talk, is it?"

I think back to Misao, and the fact that Tezuka thinks of me as his best friend, and that he has become depressed because I haven't been keeping in touch. He doesn't sound at all angry with me. All that, plus how absolutely miserable I am with and without Tezuka. I move the towel back to my forehead, so I can look at him.

Tezuka is wearing a suit, but no tie, and currently, he is shrugging off the jacket in a manner that is too careless to suit him. But I find myself loving him even more for it. He wears the same glasses, and he hasn't changed at all.

"My head hurts." I say. "But I…I want to talk to you." I sound pathetic, and I know it, better than anyone. I manage to get myself up in a sitting position, but I am determined not to betray me. I suddenly have everything to hide, but I can't hide a damn thing. Every shake, every tremor going through my body is giving me away.

I start rambling, because for once, being silent with Tezuka is awkward, "I guess…I should say I'm sorry. I'm sorry that we haven't seen each other for the last seven years. I'm not mad at you. I think it's wonderful you're with Misao and getting married. I think…"

"So it takes me getting married for you to come back and meet me." Tezuka said, with uncharacteristic dryness, cutting me off. "You're some piece of work, Fuji." But still, he does not sound angry, only disappointed in me, like back in high school, when I do not win a game he expects me to win. "You're not the Fuji I know."

"That's what Misao said." I snort. "You two are quite the couple, really." I reach for my glass, forgetting for the moment it is empty. I get clumsily to my feet, "I should get another drink."

"No you shouldn't. Sit down." His tone is all at once sharp. Tezuka takes me by the shoulders, and he shakes me, "Why?" His tone is unbelievably even, but then, it is Tezuka, I should not be surprised, I'm surprised though, that he has shaken me hard enough to make my teeth rattle. "Why did you come back to see everyone, but not me?"

I shake my head, staring down at my lap for a long time.

"Answer me." Cold, unyielding, Tezuka, his eyes burn holes through me, even though I'm not looking at him. "I want to _know_. If you're covering me by saying everything is your fault like you seem to be so fond of doing." His fingers tighten on my shoulders.

"I…I…Tezuka, I'm drunk." I say, lifting my face at last to face him. "Don't…I don't know. You just never seemed to be there, when I went back. That's all." It is a lie, and I can tell by the way that his eyes harden that he knows it as well as I do.

"Is lying one of your talents now, too? I don't expect any less from prodigy Fuji Syusuke. You do know, Fuji." Tezuka says, letting go and turning from me. "Tell me, please." His voice is atypically pleading. It's something that I'm definitely not used to hearing.

"Don't make me do this. I can't do this." I feel like shaking him, now. For all the most ridiculous reasons. "I can't tell you. Please, Tezuka, don't make me do this. It hurts."

"Tell me." He says, again. Unyielding.

I kiss him then. I can kiss him because he is five inches away from me, sitting on the same divan, and it's his stag party. I kiss him because I'm so desperately in love with him. I kiss him, I just want to taste him once. He tastes like jasmine tea and sake. Everything I have ever wanted him to taste like.

I drink him in, like the most wondrous thing in the world. I lift my arms, and bring him close. For some reason, he lets me. I love him all the more for it. I press him down on the divan, and I suddenly want to crawl up his body and take it like Atobe has done with mine so many times. I kiss him again and again.

"_Fuji_."

And then I come to my senses. I can't see Tezuka at all; he's like a perpetual blur in front of my eyes. His expression is all but lost to me. Yet I love him more than ever.

I run.


	5. Chapter IV

**Disclaimer: **

Prince of Tennis (c) Konomi...and it's going to stay that way.

**Notes:**

Still experiencing Internet problems...so yeah. Blah. Hope you enjoy though!

-Hanamuke-

**--**

**Shattered Silken Eyes**

**_Chapter IV_**

**----**

-------------

Atobe is in deep conversation with someone I should know, but I don't, when I finally run up to him and throw my arms around him like a child. The person that Atobe is talking to makes a useless comment about how endearing I am. No wonder I can hold Atobe Keigo to me. It's not a feat easily accomplished, I should be proud of this.

Atobe pats me on the arm, like how a father might placate a whining charge as he tries to negate the comment as just simply ridiculous. But still I don't let go. "…Fuji, what's wrong?" His voice isn't at all gentle like before, there is a scowl to his lips. His hands go around my wrists and he squeezes enough to hurt. I wince, but I still don't let go.

I hold him tighter. "I want to go home, Atobe. Let's go home. Please?"

He rolls his eyes. "Fuji…"

"I'm stupid and I'm drunk. I'm an idiot too." I feel my eyes beginning to mist over, I wonder if this is what happens if you play with tear gas. It's the most horrible feeling. "I'm a bastard…what the fuck else do you want me to say?" I press harder into his back and I feel him stiffen.

I lower my voice, "…Please…before Tezuka comes out."

He stiffens completely, then he loosens my arms around him. Atobe gives me his infamously elegant, 'what the fuck?' look. And then he shrugs, lifting a hand to bid whoever he was talking to good bye. He locks an arm firmly around my waist, "You're so fucking wasted." Atobe doesn't sound

"Uh huh," I stagger alongside him; we earn very strange looks walking out the door. "I haven't been this drunk ever since college. I want to throw up. I had like eight glasses of champagne. It was good champagne though, did you have some? I didn't expect Tezuka's party to have good champagne…"

"You have to throw up?" Atobe asks me through clenched teeth. "_Now_?"

"…Yeah," I grin up at him again, and he doesn't look amused. "I shouldn't be throwing up now, shouldn't I? I'm drunk now, I'm not hungover yet, I should be like…I don't know, having sex with Tezuka right now, shouldn't I? I was this close to it too, Atobe…"

I think he feels sorry for me. His expression softens, and for once I think I see real remorse paint his features. Atobe's arms are suddenly gentler around me. He leads me into the restroom, and I throw up in a golden sink.

Atobe's face is only vaguely disgusted in the mirror, he wets paper towels in the next sink for me to use later. Like a good nursemaid, I think, but I don't dare tell him.

-------------

I finish throwing up. I feel faint. Atobe's warm fingers are wiping my forehead with the wet towels and I think he is anchoring my lolling head on his knee. He keeps up a running commentary about how I'm not as stout when it comes to getting drunk as I use to be.

I could have told him that what I used to be isn't really something to be proud of. At least, I'm positive it's not, really. Instead I say:

"Fuck." It seems to be an accurate enough word, and it's easy to say. Most times, it is too easy.

"It's all right, Fuji."

What happens next is a blur. We are sitting in the car, with lights whizzing by and Atobe's arm is securely around my shoulders. He pulls me in closer and kisses me, only to pull away with a wince. "You know what you taste like?"

"Tezuka?" I say, nuzzling his shoulder.

"No," Atobe gives me a strange look, "You taste like vomit and bad champagne. But that's to be expected." He brushes a stray strand of hair out of his own eyes and takes to staring out the window again. "Out of curiosity, what did Tezuka taste like?"

We are home; I see the huge garage doors opening up through still blurring eyes. I shrug one shoulder and shake my head, "I don't know. I liked it. tea, maybe, instant noodles, tax attorneys eat a lot of instant noodles, don't they? Especially in law school, I think he tasted like that too, a little."

Atobe too, shakes his head as the butler opens the door for us, "You're not drunk, Fuji. I think 'pathetic, utterly obsessed idiot'-itis better suits you." He grabs my arm and drags me out. "Come on, I'll have the maids draw us a bath, or something."

-------------

Atobe lets me have the bathroom to myself first, after I shoo the maids out, of course. It's actually harder than it sounds, everyone jumps at a chance to see the so-called 'Mysterious' Mister Fuji and the 'Orgasmic' Master Keigo naked in the bath together. But I manage, somehow, and I feel very accomplished after I lock the door after them. .

Atobe is fond of mirrors, and so he keeps a full-length mirror next to the tub, perhaps for the most dishonorable reasons possible. I strip off my clothes and leave them in a pile in the corner.

I stare at myself for a very long time. I run my hands idly down my body, between my thighs, and then back up.

How unfaithful my body is. How desperate it is. The slightest touch awakes it. The warm arms that wrap around my middle make me twitch, and I look at the mirror to see Atobe's head settled on my shoulder, he is staring at me, with the strangest look I've ever seen.

"I'm going to sound really fucked for saying this, but…" Atobe releases me and climbs into the tub, he smirks. "Misery suits you, you look lovelier when you're like this. If only Tezuka can see you like I do, you'd be made, wouldn't you?"

I cross my arms hastily over my chest, as if I really have something to hide. My face flames red, I'm not used to blushing in front of Atobe, we've done everything that is anything, there is no cause to blush. "…Don't say it…like that."

Climbing in the tub next to him, I lean back against his chest and he dips a towel into the water and rubs my shoulders. I give a little sigh of approval and I close my eyes.

"How the hell else do you want me to say it?"

I sigh again, this time, it's not a sigh of approval. "I don't know. I don't know. Keep rubbing my back like that, it feels good." I can pretend that they are Tezuka's hands. Though Tezuka has never touched me, I know that he has soft, gentle hands. They are not Atobe's hands anymore.

"You do one of two things, Fuji." For once, the customary sarcasm that taints his voice when he talks about this type of thing is gone. It either means that he really thinks I'm crazy and he is humoring me because there is nothing else for him to do. Or he really means it. I think it's the former, though of course, I want to believe otherwise.

"I'm not in the mood for any of your bullshit right now." I roll my eyes.

"I'm not bullshitting."

I stare at him.

"Right."

"I'm not, honest."

I get out of the tub and towel myself off. I keep an eye on the mirror, I wonder what they see, again. I run a hand down my thighs like before, before turning to him, Atobe is also wearing that strange expression like before.

I come to sit on the edge of the tub. "Before you tell me what I should do, why are you staring at me like that?"

His look turns innocent, "Like what?"

"That." I touch a hand to his face, and he almost flinches. "You look like you want to fuck me, and you look like you think I'm insane. And you also look like this is the funniest thing you've ever seen."

"I do want to fuck you." He returns quietly, "You forget about him, when I do." Atobe reaches up a hand to stroke between my thighs, nudging my legs open. His fingers wrap firmly around my arousal.

"I…don't want to forget about him." I say.

He jerks hard, drawing a moan from my lips. "You will. Because I will touch you like he will never touch you. I look at you, like he will never look at you; I pretend to be in love with you, and you'll never be anything to him. You'll never come close."

Abruptly, he takes his hand away and then he draws me in his arms. I go limp and rest against his chest. "I love Tezuka, Atobe. Don't do this to me…please. I do enough to myself."

He rocks me, gently. Like a completely different person. "You do one of two things. One, you forget about him, and let him get married and move on with his life, and you move on with yours."

I bury myself deeper into his chest, "No."

Atobe takes to stroking my hair, "Or you hold him as tight as you can to you, and you never let him go again. He is yours because you love him more than anything in the world. That makes him yours, he will never "

I don't say anything. And I wrap my arms around Atobe and hold him, the water grows cold after a while and then we get dressed.

And that night, I refuse to sleep with Atobe, he doesn't seem surprised at all. He kisses me good night and leaves me in the guest bedroom next door, after tucking me in just like a child. It feels strange to sleep alone. I hug a pillow to my chest and drift off to sleep.

-------------

Atobe leaves me a note the next morning, something about having a morning coffee with someone. I am too sleepy to wonder why he didn't leave a name.

So I end up having breakfast brought to me in bed, because I'm too lazy to get up. I'm even too lazy to listen to the chef coming personally to recite his specialties. I end up snapping at him and he leaves in a huff. Muttering under his breath about how Mister Fuji is never grateful.

I don't correct him and I burrow deeper into the covers.

That is how Charlotte finds me.

"Syusuke! You're sick!" She's dressed in a woolen knee-length skirt that I've never seen before, and a white long-sleeved blouse. A poor attempt at appearing like a schoolgirl. I would have applauded her for it if I was more awake. I haul myself up on my elbows and I shake my head. "I'm not sick, I'm a little bit hungover, though, don't worry."

She bounces on the edge of my bed and fixes me with a worried look, "Hungover?"

"I'm not French." I remind her, bunching up the blankets again as I lie back down. "I actually do get hangovers." I settle a hand on her knee. "I'm not sick, I promise."

She lies beside me and rakes a hand through my hair, gently. "Syusuke. I know something's wrong. You haven't been yourself lately. Neither has Atobe. Are you two fighting again?"

"Fighting?" I shift to look at her, I suddenly wish it were that simple. "No, of course not. If you're wondering why we're not in the same bed, it's just because he doesn't like to sleep next to me when I'm drunk."

Charlotte thinks this over, "Really?"

"Yeah. I, uh…kick him, when I'm asleep, and he hates that." I grin what I hope is a sheepish grin. "So I figured I'd save him in the trouble and yeah, sleep next door. It's no big deal, really."

She doesn't believe me, I can tell. "Syusuke, tell me, please? I promise I won't tell anyone. This isn't like you."

"You won't tell anyone, except the maids, you mean." I roll my eyes. "No fucking way."

Charlotte brightens, "Something is wrong, then!"

I stiffen, but luckily breakfast comes and distracts both of us. Granted, the chef's not up to his usual par, but that's probably because he is mad at me. Charlotte fakes vomiting, but I finish my breakfast bravely, I deserve every bit of this.

-------------

I'm swallowing the last bit of tasteless scrambled eggs when a maid comes in with a phone. She practically drops it when she sees Charlotte and I. "…I'm sorry, I didn't know the two of you were…" Her face flames three shades of crimson.

"We're not." I say. "We're just having breakfast."

"…In bed?" She raises an eyebrow.

"I have a fucking hangover." I snap. "Who is that for?"

"You. It's a…err, Tezuka Kunimitsu."

I think for a long minute, and then I slump face down on a pillow. "Tell him…that I'm not here." I don't think I can even bear to talk to him right now. So I'd rather not try and screw up.

The maid's voice lowers urgently, "But I told him you were here! What am I supposed to tell him?" Never mind her mouth is right next to the receiver.

"That he's having sex with Atobe." Charlotte pipes up. The maid turns even redder than she is already and I slap her, not loudly, but hard enough to hurt. She winces and glares at me.

"Don't tell him that. Tell him I have a hangover and I don't feel good, and that I shouldn't be answering phone calls. The doctor says so."

The maid shakes her head and holds up the phone, "Excuse me, Tezuka-san? Mister Fuji is not feeling well at the moment, he has a hangover. I'll have him call you when he gets better. Thank you."

I sigh.

The maid turns, "Tezuka-san says to get better."

"Tell him thank you."

"He says you're welcome, and to drink lots of ice water, it helps with hangovers."

"Does he know a lot of about hangovers?" I mumble into the pillow.

"Yes, unfortunately, college. You have to promise him to drink ice water."

"Ice water. Got it." I mock salute the phone. "I promise." Actually, the fact that Tezuka employs ice water as a remedy to hangovers is only mildly disturbing to me. But I'm not the only one that has changed over the years. I have to remind myself that it's not a crime.

"He says he has to go to work." The maid reports.

"What's he still doing on the phone, then?"

"He's eating. And he's worried about you."

"What's he eating?"

"A bagel. He says he really has to go to work."

I smile. "Tell him bye."

The maid delivers my message and then hangs up and gives me a very strange look. "Tezuka-san says good-bye and get well. Could I…err, get you some ice water?"

I groan, "My head hurts."

"You promised, Syusuke." Charlotte chides.

"Fine, ice water, whatever." I throw blankets over my head.


	6. Chapter V

**Disclaimer: **

Prince of Tennis (c) Konomi...and it's going to stay that way.

**Notes:**

I actually had this chapter ready along with Chapter IV, and I thought I might as well post it today because I still have a safe Internet connection. Before I forget, I want to apologize for not replying to reviews, once I get home I'll start replying again. Thanks and enjoy!

-Hanamuke-

**--**

**Shattered Silken Eyes**

_**Chapter V**_

**----**

"Do you want to know something about yourself, Fuji?"

I am sprawled on Atobe's bed pouring over a calendar for December. I take a red pen and I cross out December 3. Ten days, before Tezuka and Misao get married. Atobe's head is settled snugly on my shoulder and he kisses the nape of my neck.

"What?"

"You're fucking obsessed. And you're not fucking doing anything. It's pissing me the fuck off." Atobe kisses me again and he sighs. "Note my language."

"I duly note it," I throw up my hands, "There's nothing to do. What do you want me to do? He's in love with her, she's in love with him. I'm in love with him, but that's…besides the point. I can't." I shake my head, "I can't do it."

Atobe gets out his phone, punches a few buttons, and hits me unceremoniously over the head with it, "Do it. I already dialed the number. It's ringing."

I stare at the phone and then I drop it. And then I pick it up, but not without glaring at him first. "Fine, but this is absolutely ridicu--"

"Hello?"

I drop the phone again. Atobe looks at me nonchalantly, "Something wrong?" He asks, propping himself up on one elbow.

I pick up the phone and cover the receiver firmly, "Of course something's wrong. He picked up." I tell him through gritted teeth.

Atobe rolls his eyes, "Usually, when someone calls, it's perfectly normal when one picks up the phone. Talk back, for God's sake. Don't be scared."

I breathe deeply, in. Out. I hold the phone up to my ear. "Hello?"

"Atobe?"

I cover the receiver again. "He's asking for you!"

"It's my phone. You sound like a fucking schoolgirl. Talk to him and have a normal conversation, please. You're an adult now, act like one." Atobe gives a half elegant snort, as only Ore-sama can.

I sigh and put the phone back to my ear, "Hi, Tezuka, actually, this is Fuji, calling from Atobe's phone. How are you, Tezuka? Am I um, interrupting anything? Are you at work? I'll just go…if that's the case." I hope it isn't.

I hear a sigh, "I'm not working. I don't work on Thursday afternoons. I trust you're not hungover anymore, are you?"

"Nope, the ice water did the trick. I had five glasses in an hour. Thank you for your advice." I grin and I lie back next to Atobe. "What are you doing now? I hear noise."

There is a pause at the other end, and I hear Tezuka's muffled voice. "…I'm actually fairly uncomfortable right now. I'm in a dress shop. Not by choice, though. I'm actually living up to a promise I made a month ago."

"Oh?" I tuck the phone firmly under my chin, "What promise is that? Do enlighten me."

"I have to help Misao pick out a wedding dress…no, I'm not being reluctant. Honest. That color looks fine."

I try to imagine Tezuka in a dress shop with Misao with promises that he would pick out a dress for his fiancée. I laugh, "What color is it?"

"Light…bluish, maybe. I'm not good with colors." He coughs a cough that sounds more like a snort, if anything, it sounds very un-Tezukaesque, but there is a certain elegance to it, though of course, like everything else he does. "…That looks nice too."

"What color's that?"

"Orange."

"Orange? The last time I checked, they didn't make orange wedding dresses." I laugh and Atobe raises an eyebrow. "At least…in France they don't."

"Just because you're French…" A sigh, and then that same snorting sound, "You think you're all sophisticated now, aren't you? If it's not orange, then what is it?"

"Peach, or maybe powdered skin." I say while Atobe falls off the bed trying to hide the fact that he is cracking up.

"Powdered skin is a color?" He sounds shocked.

"In France it is. Is it more light pink than orange? Or more orange than light pink?"

"I can't believe we're having this conversation. The latter."

"Then it's powdered skin. It has more orange in it." I throw a pillow down at Atobe, who is still laughing, though it's mercifully silent. "Why not? We both learned something today. I learned that it is possible for you to walk voluntarily into a wedding dress shop, and you learn that there is such a color as powdered skin."

"Useless knowledge."

"Trivia." I correct him, "It's a much more elegant word."

"Trivia." He agrees tonelessly. "Let's stop the trivial talk, then, Fuji. Why did you call me?"

I stop laughing, and my smile slips a little. This alarms Atobe so he also stops laughing and climbs back on the bed, staring at me intently. "…I…Am I not allowed to call you? You called me, if you must, I'm just returning your call. I'm better now, and you don't have to worry so much." I pause and I sigh. "Tezuka?"

"Yes?"

"Do you work tomorrow?" Atobe gives me an approving look as I say this, I roll my eyes.

"Yes, I get off at one, and then back to work at three. I can meet you for lunch, if you want." He sounds mildly amused at this, "That is, if you don't run up a hangover and forget to meet me again."

Tezuka is trying to joke, and I try to laugh, but I fail honorably. "That's not funny, I haven't been that drunk since college, it's no longer anything that I'm proud of, I'm all grown up, now."

"So you were once proud of it." The disapproval is evident in his voice, "Though I'm glad you're all grown up."

"As for you, I think you're too grown up." I tuck a pillow under my chin as I flip sideways. "So grown up that you're engaged and going into wedding dress shops without a having a seizure…" Out of the corner of my eye, I see Atobe slap his forehead. "Yep, you're all grown up."

"You're being trivial again, Fuji."

I shake my head, "I'm sorry. I won't ever do that again. Be trivial. You must really like that word." Atobe grins at this. "Back on topic, we're having lunch tomorrow, I'm buying, and no, before you complain, you're not buying. I happen to have unlimited credit thanks to yours truly."

Atobe looks at me and shakes his head, I slap him, but it ends up being more like a pat, on the shoulder. He kisses me on the hand and lets go.

"You mean Atobe." Again, Tezuka sounds amused, I close my eyes and I almost see his mouth twitching, the way it always does when he wants to laugh but is afraid to.

"He's convenient at a time like this." I grin, and Atobe promptly hits me on the head with a pillow. "Ow, I meant that as a compliment, don't hit me like that." I roll away from him. "So, you're not paying. Can you drive yet?"

"Now you're being patronizing and trivial." The amusement is at once gone from his voice. "Of course I can. I'm not eighteen anymore. Yes, I can drive, probably better than you. Should I come pick you up at one-thirty tomorrow?"

"You know where Atobe lives?" My eyebrows shoot up. "And sure, one-thirty sounds just fine. Where are we going to eat?"

Atobe mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like, "Everyone knows where I live, don't be an idiot."

I hear sighing and some static over the line, "Everyone knows where Atobe lives, Fuji. It's one of the wonders of the world. As to where to eat, I'm sure we'll figure something out, I'm assuming you're not as picky as you are before."

"So I've been told." I make a face, but I have my head turned towards the door so Atobe doesn't see. "I was not ever picky. Ever."

He sighs again. "Yes you were, but let's not argue. So one-thirty tomorrow, Atobe's place, all right?"

"All right," I smile, "Tomorrow, then. See you. Have fun dress shopping. Save yourself some face and make sure your suit matches her dress, although I don't think they make powdered skin-colored suits yet. Tell Misao hello, by the way." I hang up. And then I throw up my arms around Atobe and kiss him twice on the lips and I nuzzle his neck. "God, I'm happy."

"I should hope so. You're happy at Ore-sama's expense. I will shoot you, if you're not happy." But his arms come up around me and he holds me loosely. He nips gently at my neck. "Don't screw up."

-------------

I still don't sleep in Atobe's room. The next morning, I'm up at the crack of dawn. I must have paced the room a hundred times before Atobe knocks on my door. I let him in, and I flop facedown on the bed. He flops down too, but far enough away so that we're not touching.

"Morning, did you sleep?" He asks with a slight smirk.

I shake my head, "Not a wink." I turn to look at his back. "What do I have to do? Hold him to me forever and never let go. He's mine. He's not Misao's; she has stolen him from me." The words taste strange in my mouth. "I don't want him to get married."

Atobe turns to look at me, his expression slips just a little, enough for me to tell that he is more upset with me than he'd like to admit, but the frown is quickly replaced with a customary smirk, he nods. "Yeah, that's more like it." He cups my face gently in his hands for a minute, and looks at me. And then he takes his hand away.

"I shouldn't kiss you anymore, should I?"

I stop.

I cup his face instead, "On the forehead is okay, I think. We're friends, after all." I grin lightly. I kiss him on the forehead, "Thanks for everything, Atobe." And then I put my arms around him and he holds me. Just as friends. It's a simple, pleasant feeling.

"You're welcome." I feel him take his arms away and sitting up. "You should get ready."

I glance at my watch, "I haven't even had breakfast, it's like eight-thirty, I don't need five hours to get ready. I mean," I grin up at him, "If I was a schoolgirl, yes, I would need five hours, but I'm not."

Atobe mirrors my grin, and he gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. If he is upset with the new shift in our relationship, he does a great job of not showing it, "But you are."

-------------

Charlotte and one too many maids end up 'getting me ready' for my supposed 'date' with Tezuka, at least, that is how Atobe put it for them. Atobe stands against the door of the guest bedroom, laughing through most of the ordeal.

I try to glare at him, but with them stripping clothes off of me, and putting clothes on while I stand there helpless probably doesn't do me any favors. And for the very first time, I feel much undignified, which is a first for me.

They settle on a white Armani sweater and khakis that look like Calvin Klein, except I can't be one hundred percent sure. They argue about whether or not I need a hat, finally deciding on negative.

The butler busts in with my shoes, looking very out of place, being seventy and wizened, but my shoes look unusually clean. Atobe gives me a crooked sort of smile when I look at him, "I had them shined. You should thank the butler, he had to run most of Tokyo, looking for a decent shoeshine shop."

I thank the butler, who still looks bewildered. The maids, with Charlotte in command, finish their fuss and stand back to admire their handiwork. I, on the other hand, am feeling decidedly awkward as I stand there. I'm only used to Atobe staring at me like that, not a whole host of maids plus Charlotte.

The clock strikes one-thirty, and Atobe moves to take me by the arm, he lowers his voice significantly and whispers, "Told you you'd need all five hours. Let's go, knowing Tezuka, he's probably here already."

Atobe escorts me outside, Charlotte and the maids would have made up a cheering squad if we hadn't begged them not to. Tezuka is there, waiting parked by the curb. He has a nice car, but after riding in Atobe's limousine, no car seems really all that nice anymore.

I hug Atobe goodbye for a long time. I break away and I run towards Tezuka's car. Like the stupid, naïve child that I am. I know that better than anyone else, better than Atobe, and of course, better than Tezuka. I feel as though my smile is plastered and permanently frozen on my face.

Tezuka is dressed in a dark dress shirt and black jeans, a little more casual than what I'd first imagined a tax attorney. He gets out of the car to open the door for me, and I smile at him. "Hello, Tezuka, you look nice. You don't look like a lawyer, though."

He shuts the door after I get in. "I'm certainly not your lawyer, so I don't see any point in actually looking like one."

We pull away from the curb and I wave at Atobe. Tezuka follows suit, though the action is decidedly more awkward. I turn to look at him, "You succeeded admirably, but I'll know where to look if I ever get sued."

"This isn't a very cheery subject, as long as you don't make a habit out of evading taxes, you probably don't need me." He barely stops in front of a red light.

"Tezuka, you should be careful when you're driving." I chide, "Let's talk about something cheerier, then. What color dress did you pick yesterday? Even if the topic is a little bit trivial."

"We went with the light blue." He turns to fix me with a meaningful look, "My suit is dark blue, does it match?"

"You're teasing me." I laugh, "That's not like you. Yes it does."

"You teased me enough back in the day. I figure I can afford to be a little patronizing now." Tezuka risks a glance over at me, it's not long enough for me to really read his expression, but I think he's amused. "Where do you want to eat?"

"You're so sarcastic now, Tezuka, I'm not sure I like that." I lean my head against the windowpane and stare at the buildings flying past. "But I guess you're right, you're entitled. We can eat whatever you want. I'm technically French now, _non_?"

-------------

The diner is charmingly small and surprisingly quaint; I take a liking to it right away. The food they serve is western, and Tezuka takes the time to regale me about everything on the menu, what's good, and what's not good. In the end, I order a hickory bacon burger, and Tezuka has a salad, I almost feel a little bit guilty.

It's lucky we occupy a booth near the back of the restaurant, I watch the waitress walk away, and then I turn my attention back to Tezuka.

"How are things?" I say, finally.

"Good." He replies shortly, "Shall we skip the trivial talk? Or are you just going to lie to me some more? I'm fine with either, Fuji. You've been lying to me for the last seven years, I know you've been back. If you really hate me that much, you can go. But I think I at least deserve an explanation."

I crumple my napkin in my lap. I can feel my whole body trembling. "Don't talk like that! I didn't lie to you." But I don't look at him. "It's not…what you think, I promise. I' m not mad at you."

"Tell me. And I know you're not drunk, so don't." His voice is exactly like ice.

I still don't look at him. "I don't…know." I bury my head in my hands, "What do you want me to say? The truth is I'm a…a…excuse my language, but I have been a fucking mess because of you, I still am, actually. Look at me, I still can't look you in the eye."

"You sound like you're ashamed of me." He says dryly, sounding neither pleased nor displeased.

Our entrees come, steaming hot, and I watch the smoke rise, still avoiding his eyes somehow. "I'm not ashamed of you." I look up at last, "May I be trivial for one question, please?"

He hands me a napkin. "Tell me why you're crying, first."

I don't realize that I have been crying, but when I take the napkin from Tezuka, the corners of my eyes are indeed wet. "I'm sad." I say simply. But of course, it's not at all simple. "Now, may I ask?"

For once, Tezuka's expression is an absolute blank to me, I can't read a single muscle, I can't read a single twitch. "Ask."

"Do you love Misao? Enough to marry her? Enough to live with her and wake up beside her for the rest of your life? Does she really mean that much to you?" I dab at my eyes, so my hands would have something to do.

"Yes, she's my fiancée. I love her. Enough to marry her and wake up with her. She was here, and you weren't." He glares at me, but it's a weary glare, as if I'm a child and he doesn't know what to do with me. Tezuka takes in a forkful of his salad.

I just stare, "How can you eat at a time like this?"

"If I don't eat now, I won't be able to eat dinner." He replies flatly.

I slam a hand down on the table, it is loud enough to turn heads. Tezuka drops his fork. "It's painful to stay by you." I say, "It's painful to see you everyday. I feel like dying. How can you expect me to stay by you, Tezuka? Are you _that_ selfish?" I get to my feet and I walk over to him. I almost want to hit him, shake him, something. But I stand erect.

"Are you saying that things might have been different if I stayed?" I demand.

Tezuka looks at me, and he gets up too, leaving most of his salad uneaten. "Yes. It might have been. Are you angry?"

We are so close, I might have been able to kiss him again, but I look down at my shoes. "No. I think this is better…for the both of us. Misao will take care of you, she promised." I reach out a hand to clasp him by the arm, and then I let go, before I get to like the feeling too much.

"…I'm sorry, I lost my appetite."

I turn and go.


	7. Chapter VI

**Disclaimer: **

Prince of Tennis (c) Konomi...and it's going to stay that way.

**Notes:**

I'm back home!! As opposed to being on a stuffy airplane when I wrote this...so I might not be up to par. But ack...I still have summer homework to do. I'm so pro at procrastinating. And I'm pretty sure I spelled that wrong x-x. Anyways, thanks for the reviews and please enjoy!

-Hanamuke-

**--**

**Shattered Silken Eyes**

**_Chapter VI_**

**----**

I go outside. I realize that it's cold and I should have brought a jacket. It's snowing lightly, and I can feel the icy flakes sticking to my cheeks. I stick my hands into my pockets and I stare up at the ominously darkening sky and I wonder how I'm going to get home. Tezuka's car is right there by the sidewalk, but of course, that's no longer an option.

I wish Atobe was here, dependable, limitless, richer than heaven itself Atobe. I wish that I could dive into the warm predictable circle of his arms and lie to myself, to call him mine again.

I sigh, I get out my cell phone and prepare to call Atobe, knowing how absolutely infuriated he will be with me. Somehow, I'm glad for it. It feels good to have someone call you an idiot, that way you don't lie to yourself.

I shut the phone maybe about three seconds after I've opened it. I can't do it. Not yet.

I take my hands out of my pockets and stare at them. They are red with cold. These are the hands I would have used to hold him to me. But they are weak hands.

"You are angry at me, Fuji." I feel a familiar warmth standing close to me, but nothing touches me. "You're angry that I did not wait for you." There is a strange prickling warmness that settles itself on the back of my neck. It might have been his hands or his lips. I try not to hope.

"For the fucking millionth time, I'm not angry at you." I say, without turning around, "Stop thinking that." I get out my phone again, "I just…lost my appetite that's all." I fish out my wallet and get out a handful of bills without looking, it's a horrible habit that I've picked up from Atobe. I turn and I press the bills into Tezuka's chest. "Here's money for your trouble."

"Does everyone talk like this in France?" He takes the money from me, "A curse word one second and compensating your shortcomings with this…this…" He looks up the money, "Ridiculous amount of money? I can't accept this." He proceeds to count the money, and handing most of it back to me.

I take it. It's another chance for our fingers to brush and I don't bother getting out my wallet again, stuffing the money directly into my pocket. "And you're as straight-laced as ever." I look at the ground and I concentrate on the flakes covering his shoes and mine.

"And you've somehow turned insulting." His tone is biting. "I don't like it."

"I'm glad you don't." I snap at him, no, rather, at his shoes. "It makes it easier on me. In fact, I wish…that you would just…hate me. I don't know what to do now."

"I can hate you, if that's what you want me to do. After all, I have all the reasons to despise you." Tezuka sighs. "Is that you want?"

I shake my head. "No." I reach out and I grab his hands. They are warm enough to sting. His fingers stiffen but I don't care. "No. Don't hate me. I…" I rub his hands against my cheeks, feeling them flush.

"You're a mess." He supplies tonelessly, though his hands stay where I want them to.

I feel like shaking him. "I'm a mess because of you, Tezuka!" I let go of his hands and I stuff my hands into my pockets. "Every time I see you, every time I _think_ about you, even, I get these shivers and feelings that I don't know what to do with. I'm messed up. I don't know what to do. I'm fucking pathetic, Tezuka. This is who I am. I've changed."

He settles his hands on my shoulders, and I still don't look at him. "Not for the better." Tezuka says, still too calmly.

"You don't have to tell me." I shake myself free from his grasp and I turn away, "I should call Atobe and have him pick me up. You can go back to work now, I'm sorry I dragged you out here…"

"Fuji."

I stop, but I don't turn. "Don't call to me like that, I'll end up doing something that I don't want to…I mean…" I clench my fists, "Just…just don't."

"Is this what you want?" He asks bluntly.

I feel like punching him, almost. "No. This isn't want to what I want! How can you be so…" I walk back to him and I look him in the eye. How close he is to me, but he's far away. The simple ring he wears on his finger keeps him from me. I feel like tearing it off of his finger and throwing it into the nearest gutter. "How can you be so stupid?"

He looks back at me. "I can't read your mind. You've never said anything. How can you expect…" Tezuka trails off, and dabs at the corners of my eyes again, with a napkin that miraculously materializes. "For once in your life, do what you want to do. What do you want to do?"

I take a step back, and his hand drops to his side again.

"You love Misao, Misao loves you. I can't. Both of you are important to me. I can't just…ruin all of it." I shake my head, "No. You can't make me do this, Tezuka, I won't let you. I've…I've made too many mistakes already."

"Yes." A simple word, a simple command that is impossible to follow.

"I can't believe you. You're getting married. There is no way…" I rub my eyes hard with the back of my hand to keep them from watering so much. "Look…I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I wasn't here when she was. But I can't. It's not fair to either of us; it's not fair to Misao, either."

Tezuka says nothing at first, but he takes a single step and closes the distance between us. We are touching, but not touching. He reaches up a hand to touch me, and the cold metal of his ring is stinging.

He takes off his ring, and drops it in his pocket, in a motion that altogether too careless to suit Tezuka.

"Pretend I'm not getting married. Pretend I'm eighteen again. And say what you want to say, do what you want to do." He says, eyes boring through mine, sending familiar, panicky shivers down my spine. "Do it."

"You make it sound so easy." I laugh, but it's a awkward laugh, loud enough so that people turn and stare at us.

"It is."

"It's not."

Tezuka looks at me strangely, "Why? You had the nerve to kiss me, the nerve to invite me out to lunch, and then storm out on me, and then shower me with riddles while people stare at us in the street. How is this any more difficult?"

"It is." I glare at him.

"No." He is calm, too calm that I almost hate him for it. "It is not, because you are Fuji. You've always wanted me the way I am now. I'm here. Do what you've always wanted to do. Misao and Atobe are not here to stop you."

"…I…"

I break. Something cracks within me, I'm still not sure if it's good or bad. But I find my face pressed tightly against his chest, my arms locked against his waist. I feel the vague heat of more stares, but I don't care.

"I've done it. What I want to do." I say. "It's freezing. Hold me, you're not married now, so I can."

His arms don't move.

"I can't believe you let me kiss you, but you won't hold me." I look at him, but he is not looking at me. "Please. I'm dying right now; keep me from dying for a little while longer."

"Just a little while longer." He agrees, and holds me. His arms are warm, yet it's a different warmth when Atobe holds me. His embrace is not at all demanding. I love him for it. Just for a little while longer, we are what I've always wanted us to be.

-------------

I let go first, and the bewilderment in his eyes tells me he doesn't understand any of it. Which is just as well because I don't get it myself, I take his hand and he lets me, I smile up at him.

His mouth twitches, but of course Tezuka does not manage a smile. "I have a feeling that I just got into something I can't get out of." He says, in all seriousness as he looks down at our intertwined hands.

I sigh, "I'm sorry. If…" My eyes trail to his ring finger, still free and white and mine without the ring. "If you want me to go away, put your ring back on. I'll go away and never appear before you again."

"That's harsh."

I look at him, "So is the prospect of seeing you married, waking beside someone else. Knowing that you'll always be nearby, but you'll never be able to kiss and hold me the way I want you to. I do not have you, Tezuka Kunimitsu. Even if you stand here wearing no ring." I sigh, "…I should go." I turn from him.

"I like you, Fuji. You're an important person in my life." He doesn't move, his fingers tighten around mine and I feel another unfamiliar tremble, "Don't go."

"This is all we will ever be." I feel tears coming to my eyes again, and before I can raise up my free hand to wipe them, warm fingertips are brushing them away. "I don't want to hurt anyone. I really don't."

"This isn't what you want." He says simply.

"No. It's not." I agree tonelessly.

He shakes me, hard enough to hurt, hard enough to leave my teeth rattling. "I'm not going to ask you again. You're a better person than that, Fuji. You've denied yourself so much. It's all right to be a little selfish. What do you want?"

"This isn't just 'a little bit' selfish, Tezuka." I almost want to laugh at the absurdity of it.

"Just tell me what you want." Cold, unyielding Tezuka, I almost wish that I was drunk again, so I can blame everything on alcohol. But I want it so much. I've never wanted anything—anyone as desperately as I have wanted Tezuka.

"Tell me what you want, Fuji." He says, too calmly. "I'm here now, you'll never have me again."

I kiss him. I don't give a fuck that there are people watching, I don't care that there's a ring in his pocket that binds him to someone else, someone that I have the misfortune to call friend. All that matters is the taste of his mouth, the bitter tang of something tainting the tip of his tongue and mine.

It's a dizzying feeling, and when I pull away, he leans in to kiss me again, drinking me up just as hungrily as I've always imagined him. I lick along the roof of his mouth, and I am all but lost in him.

Our bodies are pressed close together, and I want so much to rip of his clothes, taste every inch of him. His mouth is now trailing down the hollow of my throat. The warmth stings my skin, and I arch back my head.

My hands are stroking his sides, and I can feel the wonderful tautening of his body, tightening with desire for me. The way that I've always wanted it to be, even if it is in the middle of the street.

We both pull back, and I brush stray strands of hair out of my eyes. I open my mouth, to tell him how much I loved him, perhaps, but I realize just how many people are staring and I flush very red and close my mouth.

Tezuka's composure is ever unchanged, with remarkable poise he grabs my hand again, as if it is the most natural thing in the world again, and the crowd that gathers dutifully part to let us walk to his car, it might have been laughable, but I'm much too embarrassed to consider such an option. "Let's go, Fuji."

-------------

I can feel the unfamiliar heat radiating around both of us. It's the heat, and the infinitely tantalizing realization that we could be more together than we have ever dreamed of.

At least, for me, it's like that.

After finding myself in a hotel room overlooking the dismal streets below, I watch Tezuka latch the door with uncharacteristic clumsiness and I realize with a quickening of heartbeats that things are probably like that for him too.

I sink down on the soft mattress of the only bed, and he joins me, his hands reach out to touch me, as if I'm a precious piece of porcelain, and I realize for the millionth time how much I love him, and how much of an idiot I am, being like this.

"…This isn't like you, Tezuka." I say, trying to shy away from his touch, but the waves of pleasure cascading down on me melts my resolve with every passing caress. "We…we should talk about this…rationally so…"

He cuts me off abruptly by placing a rough kiss on my lips. "This type of thing is never rational. You want this." Another kiss, rougher than the last, and I moan loudly.

"…Y-yes. But…" My hands reach up to clench the loose fabric of his shirt and I feel yet another irresistible wave of pleasure wash over me. "You…"

Tezuka lets me fall back against the white sheets, white sheets that I know that we will soon soil. They are not silk, so that doesn't matter. He kisses my throat gently, and lies down with me. I have lain with Atobe like this; millions of times, never once does my face flame so red.

"I wear no ring." He says, his face at once expressionless, the light in his eyes are gone, and there is suddenly a chill in the room that wasn't before. "While I wear no ring, I can do what I want to do. This is what I want."

I cover his hands with my own, "What do you want?"

"To rescue you." Tezuka kisses me, stretching over me. "From dying, I see it. Even if you did not tell me. Your eyes are so cold, Fuji. And when I kiss you, I feel them warm up."

My eyes are watering. I feel the gentle brushing of his tongue over my eyes, "I'm not dreaming." I am not dreaming, I know this, because every kiss is the most painful thing. I lock my arms around his neck and rock with him.

He lifts up my sweater and caresses my warm body with his warm hands. He suckles one nipple I try half-heartedly to cover. His mouth pushes aside my fingers with even gentler kisses, and I relent.

I play with the buttons with his shirt, nuzzling the skin that is exposed to me. He breathes sharply and I grin up at him, a knowing child's grin. And he lets me press him down on the bed, while I sprawl on top of him, tasting and exploring his body the way I've always wanted. My knee accidentally digs into his groin and I realize that Tezuka has a lovely moan.

After a while, gentleness is no longer a part of it, and there is as much pain as there is pleasure. I scream, and I wonder vaguely if there are innocent guests next door with ears pressed to the wall. I wonder because I used to be an innocent guest, it's a fact that I'm no longer proud of.

My lips are numb from kissing, and there is such rawness to everything. Tezuka's ragged breathing and my unsteady heartbeats are foggy to my ears. It makes it all the more real. It's the most beautiful thing in the world. Everything I have ever wanted it to be.

When the sheets are properly soiled, I lie limp in Tezuka's arms.

-------------

I must have fallen asleep soon after that, for when I open my eyes again, Tezuka is still holding me loosely to him, but he is dressed, while the only thing that I'm wearing is the dirtied sheets that I almost wish that I can take back with me.

He kisses me, and I let out a pleased sigh. "…What time is it?"

"…Four-thirty."

I shoot up, clutching the sheets to me, suddenly more aware than ever of my nakedness. "You have to go to work." I lean over the side of the bed groping for the clothes that are somewhere. "I'll take a taxi back or get Atobe to come get me or something…where are my clothes?"

Tezuka stares at me for a good minute, and walks the length of the room to get to a chair that has my clothes draped over it. He brings them to me, and helps me dress, his fingers linger on every inch of skin that is about to be covered.

I pull the sweater over my head and then my jeans, dressed again; it makes what we did seem even more unforgivable, yet all the more precious and lovely. I touch a hand to his cheek.

"Your hands are cold." He says, somewhat disapproving.

I smile, "Saa…I guess when you're not warming them up, that's what happens."

"You're a tease, Fuji." Tezuka kisses me, and covers both of my hands. "I'll drive you home."

I promptly forget about taking a taxi.

-------------

The smallest car is missing from the garage, the Atobe family owns a grand total of five cars, and not all of them get driven. Which seems to me a waste of time. Tezuka parks on the driveway this time.

We kiss, taking our time about it, because I know for a fact that Atobe's not going to pop out of nowhere, but even that has an end. I move to get out of the car, "_Au revoir_, then, Tezuka."

His fingers clamp around my wrist, when I have one foot out the door. "Wait."

I pause, and look back at him, his expression is the strangest I've ever seen, "What?"

"The last time you told me that, I never saw you again." He says, his words sound a little bit shaky, as if he has trouble forming them.

I look at his fingers around my wrist, "And the moment I get out of this car, you're going to put your ring back on, it's all the same." Though that's not at all what I want to say. It's too late to take the words back.

He doesn't seem offended. "At least I'm not the one running away."

The words sting and I almost glare at him, "I'm not running away anymore." I take a deep breath and move to embrace him, he first stiffens then relaxes. "I'm going to hold you to me and never let you go ever again." I place a gentle kiss on the side of his neck. I let go

Tezuka looks dazed, and I smile and climb out of the car, "Even if you put on your ring. Have a safe drive back." I blow him a kiss and wave as he backs down the driveway.


End file.
